


coming up (it's hard to breathe)

by abapical



Series: A Series of Incestuous Events [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Father/Son Incest, Incest, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Relationship Negotiation, Stiles is 14, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 13:44:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1268590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abapical/pseuds/abapical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sheriff finds an alpha for Stiles' second heat, because that's what good fathers do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	coming up (it's hard to breathe)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who read, kudosed, or commented on the first part of this! There was never actually supposed to be more, but this verse has taken on a mind of its own.

Choosing an alpha for Stiles isn’t easy. 

John spends a ridiculous amount of time online, picking through the website for alphas who have been certified and registered as heat matches. Heat matching is as legitimate an occupation as anything else and, despite not being a medically sanctioned profession, it’s withstood the test of time as a resource for omegas experiencing their first heats.

But even after narrowing the results down to the Beacon Hills area, the number of options is still overwhelming. 

Every alpha has a resume, a portfolio, references listed, the whole deal. The vetting process is extensive, measure upon measure to ensure heat matching isn’t open to just any old alpha wanting in on the defloration business. The vast majority of alphas involved don’t use it as their primary means of income--work is inconsistent, since the entire point of a heat match is providing an omega some kind of support when their first heat hits. Most families who hire a heat match do it for the sake of their omega having an alpha’s presence during the first heat, then opt for suppressants and medical interventions in the future.

John’s been asking around. He has coworkers at the station with omega kids who have dealt with all this before; plenty of them have been supportive. He’s also checked with Stiles' pediatrician since, although doctors can’t officially condone heat matching since it’s not undertaken by medical professionals, they _can_ suggest contacting certain names in the business. 

John hovers his cursor over the name that’s come up the most often. He should be letting Stiles have more of a say in this, but he just needs to be _sure_. When he sat down with Stiles and told him they’d start looking for a heat match, Stiles' only specifications had been “nice” and “male.” He was very adamant about both of these.

By the time he narrows it down to half a dozen potential alphas and calls Stiles in, he’s exhausted. “We need to get everything settled for your next heat. These are the ones I bookmarked. I’ll give you a little time to go through everyone, and if none of these seem right to you, we can do some more looking together, all right?”

Stiles looks at him seriously and nods.

It takes him all of fifteen minutes to make his decision. “This one,” he says firmly once he’s called John back into the room. Onscreen, there’s a picture of a beaming, bearded alpha wearing a leather jacket and posed against an impossibly pink background. “I like this one.”

John swallows. “Hale?” 

“And yes, I read his whole file,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes. 

This was one of the names John kept running into. Derek Hale has been heat matching in Beacon Hills for the past three years and, if his history is anything to go by, he’s damn good at what he does. 

He’s also a werewolf.

“Are you...are you sure you want to do heat matching?” John ventures. “We could…your doctor said Beacon Hospital has excellent heat facilities.” 

He knows it’s a lost cause even while he says it. Craving the presence of an alpha during heat is pretty much a biological imperative, so plenty of omegas are more comfortable with heat matching than trying to get through it alone at home or in a heat facility. After all, suppressants didn’t always exist; seeking out clinics over an actual alpha is mainly the purview of especially conservative families or married omegas whose alphas aren’t currently present. And even though Stiles has been cleared for suppressants, taking them doesn’t guarantee immediate effectiveness, especially in a young omega whose cycle is still settling.

Stiles wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, but even if I take the pills that just means I’ll have a heat like, what, once a year instead of every other month? So I’d still have to deal with it anyway, and I’d rather have someone there.” 

And John's a progressive guy, he's always been on the side of wolf rights, but alpha werewolves are _huge_ and _strong_ and Stiles is just… not.

“I’ll,” he starts, and the words stick in his throat. “I’ll get in touch with his liaison and let you know how it goes, okay?”

“He looks nice, right?” Stiles says, scrolling through Hale’s portfolio.

John gives his shoulder a squeeze and leaves the room.

 

* * *

As per protocol, he meets with Hale’s representative to determine whether to pursue this arrangement, a representative who also happens to be his mother.

John did some additional research of his own after Stiles made his selection. The Hale family has a good reputation for providing alphas who can reliably get young omegas through their heats--Talia Hale was a heat match before she mated with an omega, and two of her children have been in the business for years. She knows the routine of negotiating a match like the back of her hand and isn’t fazed at all when John spends a good five minutes stumbling over every other word to tell her everything he already outlined in his emails. 

"It's my son," he tells her, while they're ensconced in a corner table of a coffee shop. "His first heat came early and we weren't ready. I need him to have someone next time. That just can't happen again." 

Talia is calm and dark-haired and capable and John feels like a nervous schoolboy in front of her. "You said his heat was early,” she says, surveying him over her mug of ginseng tea. “How early?"

And John swallows, reminds himself that she might be able to hear every beat of his heart but she can't hear him recalling the way Stiles felt around his fingers. She can’t know how he spent the remainder of Stiles' heat curled up behind him and pressing his fingers inside him whenever he was conscious enough to plead for it. "Stiles just turned fourteen."

“Poor thing,” Talia murmurs. “Heats are overwhelming enough when they hit within the average age range. You said you’ve considered alternatives?”

“Yeah, we’re going to try suppressants and hope they help his heats even out. The original plan to get him through his first couple heats in a clinic, but Stiles is,” John searches for the right word, “he’s tactile. He needs someone there for him or he gets overwhelmed. And if suppressants don’t work their magic, we’re gonna need someone to help him through that.”

Talia smiles, slow and warm. “Derek can probably make someone get through their heat just by holding their hand.”

“Um,” says John, and his doubt must be written all over his face.

“I know he looks he's a force to be reckoned with,” Talia continues, clearly having responded to this reaction before, “but he's a real softie underneath it all. He'll treat any omega with respect and adoration, and a young one even more so. Chances are, they’ll be a better fit than you think.”

That makes John raise his brows a little, since fit might be an issue. Even if he didn’t have Derek’s vital stats committed to memory, he still has that portfolio open in a tab on his phone. Derek Hale's a big guy _and_ he's a wolf. And while Stiles seemed perfectly willing to have _John_ knot him, he was also so heat-drunk, John doubts he even remembers it. 

He’s trying to tactfully tell Talia he has a few concerns about her son's proportions, which is somehow more terrifying than anything he’s ever encountered in over twenty years in law enforcement, when Talia sets down her tea. “Sheriff, Derek has excellent control of himself. He’s never once given an omega anything they were incapable of handling. But are you sure you wouldn’t like my daughter Laura to be there for your son instead? She’s been at this even longer than Derek and she’s very good.”

John blinks. “I...no, thank you, I’m sure she is, but Stiles made his preferences pretty clear.”

There’s one more question gnawing at him, one he can’t quite bring himself to ask without sounding crass, but Talia spares him again. 

“I’m assuming you’ve heard about our family’s other abilities, but I can assure you Derek has excellent control of his wolf form as well. He’s never once shifted in front of a client. Making sure his heat matches are comfortable is something that’s top priority, always.” 

The next thing John knows, what could have been an unimaginably awkward meeting turns into Talia telling him about the Hales’ gift for shifting and the tradition of parents teaching the little ones how to control their it. Only alphas have full wolf forms, so her omega husband and her brother, a beta, would take photos. “I have about five thousand pictures of Derek and Laura wrestling and trying to catch rabbits,” Talia tells him. “And Cora’s a little younger than them, so I have about five thousand _more_ pictures of them trying to teach her.”

It sounds ridiculously adorable. If Stiles were here, John’s sure he’d be angling to see them.

Some people refuse to consider werewolves for such delicate work, but John has worked with enough werewolves in his time to know that their heightened senses are priceless in some situations. And in this situation, there’s definitely an appeal to hiring someone who can hear every tic in Stiles' heartbeat and smell every minute change in his mood. 

“I’d like Stiles to meet him first,” he says carefully. “If that’s all right with you.”

The least he can do is give Stiles some say in the matter. Normally heat matches are strictly businesslike and rely on the omega's hormones to carry things along. Getting to know each other isn't typically seen as necessary. But Stiles isn't really a typical omega, in a lot of ways. John knows his kid is awkward and sensitive and he saw firsthand how vulnerable he was during his first heat. He'd hate for him to end up saddled with a complete stranger for the next one.

If this seems at all odd to Talia, she doesn’t miss a beat. “I think that can be arranged.”

 

* * *

Later that week, they have Derek Hale over for dinner. 

He shows up wearing dark jeans and a dress shirt and the same wide, easygoing smile Stiles seemed so fascinated with. John can’t help surreptitiously gaping at him; he was sure those pictures were at least a _little_ bit photoshopped. But no, apparently Derek Hale is actually that gorgeous and muscular in real life.

Stiles, on the other hand, isn’t surreptitious at all. “Whoa, are you _serious_?” are the first words out of his mouth.

John gives Derek an apologetic look, but this _is_ Stiles in his natural environment, and if Derek can't handle chatterboxes then obviously this isn't going to work.

Stiles is also wearing his "Stop reading my shirt" shirt and has grass stains on his knees from roughhousing with Scott earlier, and John half expects Derek to take one look at him and walk right back out because Stiles really does look every inch his age. But, better to let him get a look at the real thing than have Stiles in a tie or something. Derek’s going to get a much more intimate look at his kid later, if all goes well. Besides, John suspects Stiles will be wearing shirts like that and rolling around in the grass until he's well into adulthood anyway

But Derek just shakes their hands, flashes those perfect teeth again, and says, “Nice to meet you. My mom’s told me a lot about you. Do you need help with anything?”

John waves him off and goes to check on the chicken, very carefully ignoring the crawling feeling in his gut when Stiles looks at Derek with giant sparkly hearts in his eyes.

“So…” he hears Stiles say, “you’re really a werewolf?”

And Derek must nod since Stiles' response is, “Dude, that’s so freaking awesome! We only get maybe two days to learn about werewolves in social studies every year. I always thought that sucked. So your family, like, runs the preserve?”

He sounds smitten already. John has to take a moment just to breathe deeply, unclench his teeth, and remind himself Derek can tell if he’s upset. He tells himself it's concern, that's all, that Stiles is technically too young to be in this situation and shouldn't be looking at _any_ alpha like that at his age.

John went into this with a very simple plan: if Derek gives him even a second's doubt, John is showing him the door and finding an alternative for Stiles' next heat. But Derek is so damn charming, half the time John forgets he's supposed to be playing the scary dad. It’s not practiced charm, either, he doesn't give the air of someone who had politeness drilled into him (even though John is sure Talia would have, if it had been necessary). Derek is just genuinely sweet, polite with John but casual with Stiles, and not half as intimidating as his mother.

When they’re seated at the table and John asks him if he's up on all his shots - a totally inadvertent dog joke - Stiles groans out loud, but Derek just raises an eyebrow. “Everything you saw online is up to date, yes.”

“ _Anyway_.” Stiles seems to be trying to will John into silence using nothing but his eyebrows. “Derek was telling me how the Hales basically own Beacon Hills. Is that true?”

For the first time this evening, Derek looks a little shy. “Are you sure you want the rundown on this? It’s kind of boring.”

“Never underestimate Stiles' capacity for nosiness,” John tells him, and smiles blandly when Stiles' face contorts into a caricature of indignation. 

“Okay, so basically property works differently within the wolf community,” Derek says, either too polite or too passionate about werewolf politics to notice. “Technically, our pack doesn’t have a legal right to any land other than what our house is built on, but we are in charge of the preserve. It’s a social structure thing. Running the preserve is a way for us to secure our pack borders without actually stepping on any toes. And really all we’re doing is looking after the town's wildlife, so it’s not like anyone’s gonna tell us to stop monitoring the rabbit population or anything.”

“Wait, do wolves even get along with rabbits?” Stiles asks, and John can tell he’s picturing Derek cradling a litter of fluffy bunnies against his chest. Not that he can really blame him. Hearing Derek charmingly and humbly tell him about his work softens John towards him a lot. He’s clearly passionate about it and John likes the way he talks to Stiles without patronizing him or pushing his luck. 

“My dad does the finances,” Derek is saying, “and my older sister’s next in line to be pack alpha so she and my mom handle most of the big stuff. I just like working in the woods. I mean, I went to college for environmental conservation, so that’s...wow, sorry, this totally got boring.” He gives Stiles a mock-accusatory look and points his spoon at him. “You were supposed to stop me if I got boring.” 

Stiles shrugs and snags another muffin. “I never actually agreed. And want to hear what you do.”

“Nothing exciting,” Derek hedges. “Lots of trapping and tagging and surveying, that kind of stuff. My sisters say I’m good at calming animals down. Sometimes I’ll work with other analysts in the area but I don’t get a whole lot of face to face interactions with other people.” He grins, a little lopsidedly. “You can probably tell, huh?”

John thinks he sees where Derek is coming from. His job doesn’t call for a lot of contact outside his pack, Talia handles the heat matching negotiations, and all Derek has to do is be on call and show up when the omega’s heat strikes. No need for small talk. It never occurred to him requesting to meet prior to Stiles' heat might be a little nerve-racking for Derek too.

Stiles, meanwhile, looks like he’s about to dissolve into jello and ooze off his chair. “Um, no, you’re doing just fine, seriously.”

And even though there's no scent of heat on Stiles, John still catches Derek leaning towards him with his nostrils flaring, which he assumes is a good thing. 

"So I'm the youngest one, huh?" Stiles asks suddenly, since that's really the elephant in the room here. "I mean, you've done this a bunch of times, right, but not with anyone like me?"

"You are, yeah," Derek says, like he's discussing the weather. “It’ll be okay. I’d be there to make it _less_ scary, I promise. Pass the salad?”

Stiles obliges and immediately resumes fidgeting in his seat, twirling his fork between his fingers until John gives him a squint. “Do you have any other questions for him, buddy? Now’s the time.”

And of course his kid opens his mouth and goes, "So, uh, do you play Halo?" and John’s positive Derek can _smell_ him trying not to slap a palm over his face. 

Derek grins.

As it turns out, Halo is an amazing way to get to know one’s potential heat match. John can’t do anything but throw up his hands and leave them to it.

It’s legitimately impressive how well they’re getting along. Stiles sometimes overwhelms new people, but Derek gives back as good as he gets and actually manages to get Stiles' shoulders to relax. John doesn’t realize until much later that Derek was probably attending to Stiles' heartbeat. He figured out what kept it steady and did everything he could to make sure this young, nervous omega felt at ease.

After Derek leaves, Stiles is all smiles and practically bouncing with energy when he asks John if he liked Derek too.

Even to himself, John has to admit he does. Derek is charming and sweet and amazingly good with Stiles. And beautiful, though John was trying really hard to think of that purely in an objective sense. Stiles is a good kid trying to deal with things he shouldn’t have to worry about for another couple years; he deserves the best alpha available.

John can easily imagine Derek holding Stiles through his heat and whispering all the right kinds of soothing things in his ear to keep him from getting overwhelmed--he tells himself this is a _good_ thing, he should _want_ someone like this for his kid, but his mind still flashes back to how Stiles had squirmed and begged and orgasmed in _his_ arms and it’s like the floor tilts under him. He has to remind himself again that Derek has a werewolf's acute senses, but he couldn’t actually read his mind. To him, it must have just seemed like John was tense about finding a match for his son.

“Yeah, kiddo, I like him,” he says, and tries to ignore the tightness in his chest when Stiles' face lights up like a sunrise.

 

* * *

 

* * *

Stiles' second heat hits on a Thursday six weeks later. 

He’s in biology when he drops his pencil, leans down to pick it up, and gets such a sudden rush of blood to his head he nearly falls out of his chair. And it doesn’t go away once he’s back upright. He spends the rest of class feeling a little too hot and almost dizzy, like there’s a fever brewing in his blood. Scott’s staring at him from across the room with huge eyes and Lydia Martin, who normally never gives him the time of day, passes him a note that just says _you smell different_. 

And that’s when he knows.

He waits until the class is answering a packet of questions on ecosystems before he weaves his way to the front of the room. “Can I go to the office? I don’t feel good.”

Harris, probably for the first time ever, doesn’t skewer him with a sarcastic remark or give him any grief whatsoever. He gets a lungful of Stiles' scent, looks at him with _you have got to be fucking kidding me_ practically written on his forehead, but only says, “You need to go home.”

He tells himself over and over that there’s nothing to be scared of. That he’s ready this time. He actually has an idea of what his body’s going to throw at him. Derek has a ballpark idea of when his heat should be happening, and his work schedule is flexible enough that he can get away almost any time. There’s even a room set aside specifically for this. His dad decided Stiles' bed was too small to accommodate both him and Derek, and Stiles had to agree with him, even though he remembers how it had felt lying on his little twin-sized mattress with his daddy spooned up behind him, holding him through the worst of it. 

The two of them fortified the guest room, which now contains snacks, a mini fridge full of water bottles and vitamin water, more lube than Stiles is going to need in the next decade, and a drawer in the night table his dad just said contained “other stuff you might need” before looking vaguely uncomfortable and disappearing to go work on dinner. 

Stiles lasted almost a full hour before he peeked, but he spent most of that hour being pretty sure “other stuff” meant toys anyway. It turns out his dad is a very thorough guy.

“Is this your first one?” the sympathetic office secretary asks him while he’s waiting for his dad to come pick him up.

“Second,” Stiles corrects. The other kid in the office, a female omega a couple years older than him, looks over at him in disbelief. 

By the time the sheriff arrives, Stiles is practically sitting on his hands to keep from shoving them down the front of his jeans. He’s on his feet in a split second, reeling from vertigo all over again, but it’s okay this time because he gets to bury his face in the shoulder of dad’s uniform jacket and breathe in the smell of home.

“Derek’s meeting us at the house,” his dad tells him, giving him a pat on the back before putting a respectable distance between them so he can sign Stiles out for the day. “Come on, let’s get going.”

“What about you?” Stiles asks as he gingerly slides into the cruiser. It feels like his filters are all dropping by the second, but as much as he likes Derek he doesn’t want to be _alone_ with him. His daddy gave him everything he needed last time and Stiles needs to know he’ll at least be close by if he needs him again.

The sheriff looks conflicted. “Technically, I’ve got a shift to finish.”

Stiles chews his lip and turns up the air conditioner. “But you’ll be home when it’s done?”

“I said _technically_. The station knows I need the rest of the day off. And look, it’s not that I don’t trust Derek, I know he’s gonna be great for you, I just need to make--”

It takes all of Stiles' willpower to keep from launching himself at his dad and hugging him through the next intersection. “--need to make sure, yeah, I know. Thank you.” His throat feels strange.

His dad gives his head a quick rub. “It’ll be fine, I promise.”

Stiles spends the rest of the drive trying to believe him and trying not to whimper at every bump in the road. He still can’t help reeling off what-ifs to himself, though. What if Derek decides he’s too young after all, what if he’s too small to be knotted this time, what if he can’t get Derek off in return? Before, his dad had been so good about making Stiles come and come until he was too exhausted to move, and even though he _knows_ that was a very unconventional arrangement, Stiles still feels a little bad for not doing anything back but a lot of begging and sobbing.

He’s dazed and jelly-legged when he gets out of the car, but not too dazed to notice there’s a Camaro parked out front. 

This is it. Derek’s here.

Stiles never mentioned he'd be okay with just his dad helping him again. He knows that's not something that's done. His dad just happened to be the only person who could get him through things last time, of course it's not something he was supposed to get used to. 

Still, he's pleased that Derek is a big solid guy, like his dad. It makes it easy to imagine getting some quality snuggles out of him. And seriously, Derek wouldn't have come so highly recommended if he didn't snuggle. Stiles has done some research of his own and it's natural for young omegas to crave as much physical contact as possible when they're in heat, sexual or not. 

And personally, Stiles can't see himself ever getting too old to enjoy snuggling, especially not if this is the kind of alpha he's going to be having his heats with. He’s already told Scott all about how awesome his alpha is (he's already thinking of Derek as _his_ alpha, even though he's distantly aware that that's jumping the gun a bit).

Derek is at his side the instant Stiles steps out of the car, slipping an arm around his waist and reassuring him he’ll be just fine as he leads him inside. He doesn’t seem to mind at all when Stiles presses his face into his shoulder and breathes in his scent like he’s been starving for it, so that’s another point towards Derek’s snuggling abilities being pretty stellar. 

“I mean it,” Derek says, and Stiles is about to babble that he _knows_ and can they just be lying down and touching some more please, but then he realizes Derek is talking to his dad. “I’m going to make this as easy as possible for both of us.”

And he actually shakes the sheriff’s hand, there at the foot of the stairs. Stiles' stomach twists. 

“I’ll, um, be down here if you need anything,” his dad says haltingly, and he looks so lost Stiles breaks away from Derek to get in one last hug.

Deep down, he knows it doesn’t make any sense for his dad to be coming up with them, but the idea of having to make himself relax without him is seeming scarier and scarier. What he really wants is to snuggle up to his dad and sleep until this is all over, but Derek's there and he has a job to do.

Granted, he also thinks he could settle for snuggling up to his dad while Derek fucks him. That way he could have the familiarity of his daddy hugging him and soothing him but also have Derek there too, for the parts Stiles _knows_ his dad isn't supposed to take care of.

He remembers begging his daddy to touch him last time, he was so desperate for _touch_. He's wasted a lot of time since then telling himself he was just out of his mind, drowning in hormones, but he still can't help recalling how… _nice_ it was. His dad always knows just what he needs. It’s a little weird not having him here now, like he'd already gotten used to the idea of having him there for his heats. And Derek is great, he's gorgeous and attentive and he obviously knows how to make an omega feel amazing, but Stiles feels like he’s about to burst into a thousand pieces, like he needs something to ground him. It doesn’t matter how soothingly Derek rubs his back or how carefully he guides him into the guest room, Stiles is still acutely aware that his dad isn’t there anymore.

Derek tries to keep things gradual at first by helping him lie down, kissing his forehead and his cheeks, and Stiles likes that, it reminds him of his daddy, but when Derek tries to kiss him on the mouth he completely freezes up. “Uh, I don’t...”

And he can’t finish. He’s sure Derek knows he's a virgin, but he probably doesn’t realize he hadn't even been kissed.

“Hey.” Derek doesn't seem fazed at all, to his credit. “It’s okay, Stiles, I’m not doing anything you don’t want, okay? I’ll be here as long as you need me.”

The thing is, Stiles' heat is building quickly enough that he really does want Derek to touch him all over, he _wants_ to kiss him, but he’s so lost in this situation that his heart is beating in his throat. And he can't just bawl that he wants his dad, Derek already has to be thinking he's such a kid, and it's not like Derek's doing anything _wrong_. Stiles is just so sure he could have a lot more fun with Derek if he had his daddy close by, and he knows that's not a normal way to think. He likes Derek, he just doesn't know what to _do_ with him.

“Can’t we just play Halo again until this is over?” he groans, mashing his face into Derek’s impossibly solid bicep.

“We _could_ ,” says Derek. “I don’t think that’s how most omegas get through their heats, but we might have a major medical breakthrough on our hands.”

That actually makes Stiles laugh a little. He isn't at the point yet where he's desperate, so he's still got enough of his faculties to be self-conscious and anxious; he didn’t think he had it in him to laugh right now.

“It’s a good sign you caught this heat so early, you know,” Derek adds. Stiles can’t believe how calm he sounds even though Stiles is clinging to him like a lamprey and has to be radiating nervousness. “Especially since it’s only your second.”

Stiles isn’t so sure he agrees with that. The first time, he just thought he was tired, maybe coming down with something, and he woke up when it was in full swing. This time around, he noticed the signs earlier, so now he's still got a little while before he's clawing at the sheets. It should be nice, having advance warning, but instead just means he has time to think about everything that's happening.

But Derek is patient and not at all pushy and his lips were nice and soft against Stiles' cheeks before and he doesn’t seem to mind when Stiles has to reach out, trace the shape of them and learn if they’re just as soft under his fingertips. Derek just smiles at him, flashing those star-white teeth again. The front two are a little more prominent than the others and Stiles like that. He’s a big bad werewolf with bunny teeth.

“You’ve got bunny teeth.” 

Stiles totally doesn’t mean to say that out loud, but he's really not functioning at peak capacity here. It takes him a second to realize this probably isn't how you're supposed to treat your alpha.

"They're really, uh, _nice_ teeth, I mean." He can't help it, he's never cuddled with anyone like Derek, and his hormones are making him dopey. “How’d you even get into this, did you wake up one day and just decide helping terrified omegas was your calling?”

Derek’s hand falters where it’s been rubbing circles on his back. “Are you really terrified?”

“ _No_.” Stiles looks away. “I’m just high strung, ask literally anyone.”

For a long time, he lies there with his face tucked against Derek’s shoulder, letting him stroke up and down his spine, trying to lose himself in the lull of his breathing. 

Derek clears his throat. “My dad’s an omega, you know. He can be just as scary as my mom when he wants to be, so I know better than to think omegas can't be tough.”

“I don’t feel tough,” Stiles grouses under his breath, and of course Derek hears, because he’s a werewolf, and of course he just pets Stiles' bristly head, because he’s also a perfect gentleman. Gentlewolf.

“I know. Think about it, though. Why do you think omegas’ sexual maturity usually hits at a younger age than alphas’?”

“Because being an omega _sucks_?”

“Because,” Derek notches a finger under his chin and urges his head up, “omegas are way better at handling life shit like this than alphas when they’re still in their teens. Alphas and betas don’t get this kind of emotional intelligence until years later. How is that not tough?”

Normally Stiles would fire back a dozen snippy remarks, but Derek is looking at him with those earnest flame-green eyes and it’s making his head spin. “So, um, your dad had the kids?” 

Derek looks a little taken aback. It takes Stiles a second to realize he’s probably not used to heat matches asking personal questions instead of trying to tear his clothes off. “Yeah. And trust me, you never want to get in a werewolf’s way when they’re pregnant. It doesn’t even matter whether they’re an alpha, beta, or omega.”

Even though his own mother was an alpha, Stiles has always seen this as something else omegas tend to get stuck with since pregnancy rates are slightly lower among betas and precipitously lower among alphas. He tucks himself a little more closely against Derek, trying to ignore the need starting to press in on him. “Nobody thought my mom was gonna be able to have me, but my dad always did.” 

“Your dad’s a good guy,” Derek says, so matter-of-fact it makes Stiles squirm against him a little. 

Derek wasn’t lying about going as slow as Stiles needs. They lie there, stretched out on the guest bed for what feels like forever, Stiles nestled against him while Derek pets his shoulders, humors his questions, and lets Stiles get used to having him there. He’s just finished telling Stiles another story about his pack when Stiles goes for broke and asks if he can see his claws.

“I really shouldn’t.” He sounds shy all of a sudden. “A lot of human omegas' families get sort of nervous about letting a werewolf help their kid through a heat to begin with.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Well, they’re dumb because werewolves are awesome and it sucks you have to deal with that.” He’s kind of a werewolf nerd, he can totally cop to that. There's always a section in social studies about wolf culture and the way alpha, beta, and omega dynamics manifest within it; Stiles blathered on about this to Derek when they first met. This is why he finds Derek's bunny teeth so adorable, they're so...unwolfy. Derek looks like a big, burly textbook alpha but he's cute and fluffy underneath. 

Derek hesitates, then lets his claws slide out on one hand.

Stiles has never seen that happen in real life, so he's _fascinated_ , more so when Derek gives him a conspiratorial look and says, "Try not to tell anyone. I normally don't do this and I've got a reputation to uphold."

Even though he privately thinks Derek's reputation as a brainmeltingly sexy heat match is in no danger whatsoever, he nods. 

He's going to get a reputation of his own if he's not careful. As a _badass_. Having his first heat so early _and_ getting an alpha werewolf to help him through it? That sounds like the kind of thing that should be happening to someone else. All the other omegas in class will talk about him in hushed whispers. He might have to learn how to strut. _Stiles is so cool, he tamed a werewolf._

That's assuming, of course, he gets over his hangups long enough for Derek to actually knot him. but he's starting to feel hot all over now and that's a start. And Derek's about as tame as can be, he wouldn't have all these glowing recommendations if he wasn't. Stiles knows that a lot of humans are scared of werewolves, in a hushed-whispers-and-forced-politeness kind of way, but that's just silliness. If they could just see Derek's bunny teeth they’d understand.

Derek thumbs at the glisten of sweat Stiles didn’t realize was prickling along his hairline. "So you _really_ like the claws, hm?" 

Stiles just rolls his eyes at him, then blurts out his next words before he loses his nerve. "We could try the kissing thing again, if you want. I mean, I'd be cool with that."

Miraculously, Derek doesn’t laugh at how ridiculously awkward he is. “I can’t believe no one’s kissed you before. There must be a few alphas at your school starting to notice how good you smell.” 

Stiles is fairly sure _none_ of the alphas he knows give a damn about his scent unless it's after gym and he forgot to wear deodorant that day, but Derek sounds like he honestly believes this. Derek actually seems to think he's _lucky_ , getting to be Stiles' first, and that makes Stiles' pulse do a little leap in spite of himself. He tips his head up, partly to show his throat and partly because he really _does_ want that kiss now. He isn't sure how far open his mouth is supposed to be or how loudly he's supposed to moan, but then Derek's mouth is warm and velvety soft against his own and he's pretty sure he goes a bit overboard with both.

Derek doesn't try and slip him tongue or anything, but his beard tickles enough to leave Stiles with his toes curling. Derek seems to pick up on that since he brushes his lips against the corner of Stiles' mouth where his skin feels a little tender and says, "I brought a shaving kit, if you think that'd be better. Everyone has a preference. If you want me to, I can just take a minute and--" 

But Stiles is already cutting him off. "Nonono, this is good, this is really good, you don't have to."

His dad was a little scruffy that first night, when he pressed his face into Stiles' nape and left warm, sucking kisses all over it. Just remembering that makes him feel warm and giddy in the pit of his stomach… also, he kind of likes the idea of being all sore and stubble-burned once his heat passes. 

And Derek is nice, so he's making it easier to accept that having his daddy be his first kiss just isn’t a possibility. There are a lot of firsts that Stiles would have liked to give to his dad, most of them so unattainable they don't bear thinking about. A kiss, though...he bets his daddy is a great kisser. 

Derek doesn't need to know that Stiles has been rutting against his bed every night wishing his daddy had kissed him at least once so he'd have something to go on.

Stiles is still a little worried about his dad, who’s probably downstairs worrying about _him_. It seems so silly to not have him in the room with the two of them, just so he can know for sure Stiles is okay. He still remembers his daddy's strong arms around him, the way he murmured encouragement into Stiles' ear, telling him he could handle this, that he was going to be just fine.

He also sort of wants to climb on top of Derek so they're touching in as many places as possible. Stiles' mind is a very busy place.

Derek is stroking over his head, shoulders, down his spine, telling him how good he feels, and Stiles is drifting a little now, awash in touch and praise. Then one of Derek's big warm hands kneads at his nape a little and he whimpers, ruts his hips a little against one of Derek's thighs.

If this was his dad, he wouldn't be able to nuzzle in for more kisses, but it isn't and he _can_. This time, Derek's tongue teases against his lips until Stiles opens his mouth a little more, and _that_...he grips a fistful of Derek's shirt and squirms down against his thigh a little more. Derek has his tongue _in his mouth_ , just teasing and stroking like he's learning the taste of him, and everything is wet and warm and perfect even though Stiles doesn't have a clue how to respond. He's so wrapped up in the moment that he hardly notices when Derek's other hand slides up the back of his shirt, just wriggles to try and make it ride up around Derek's wrist even more. 

Derek must take pity on him once he realizes Stiles isn't going to make this step on his own. "Is it all right if this comes off?"

And Stiles isn't going to try and fool Derek into thinking he _wants_ to keep his shirt on, so he lets him help pull it off. He's not at all prepared for the way Derek breathes in, slow and reverent. "Look at you, you're such a pretty one." He catches Stiles' cheek in one hand when he tries to duck and hide his face, which _really_ isn't typical behavior for Stiles but literally nothing about this is typical. Derek makes him feel pleased and and shy and needy all at the same time; it's more than he can handle. 

He’s not at all accustomed to this kind of attention and desperately wants to know what about him makes Derek say he's pretty, makes him think any of the alphas in his class would want him, but he's starting to slip away now and can't really concentrate on anything outside of what his body needs. And the thing is, Derek seems to mean every word of it. Either he's actually sincere or just really, really good at this.

"Stiles," and Derek's eyes are boring right into him like Stiles is the center of his universe, "Can I touch?

Stiles thinks he can actually feel his eyes glazing over. He manages a tiny nod and the next thing he knows Derek is pressing his nose against the base of his throat and just _breathing_ , taking these long slow inhales like he can't get enough of Stiles' scent. He leaves Derek to it, lets him thumb along the span of his collarbone, lets him map out his chest and stomach with his hands, tries not to squirm and whimper when one of his knuckles grazes a nipple. 

When his daddy put his hands on him, it was different, less cautious. He held Stiles tight against him and rubbed his hands all over him like he knew Stiles needed to feel as much skin on skin contact as possible. Just remembering it makes Stiles choke on a sob. He's not ready to start telling Derek what he likes, what he _needs_ , but eventually Derek's going to figure it out, or Stiles' hormones will do the talking for him. The benefit of your alpha being a werewolf is that you don't have to ask for all the embarrassing things you want.

“Did it escalate this fast before?” Derek murmurs.

Stiles is steadily slipping deeper into his heat and hardly registers what he’s asking at first. “Mmm,” he hums. “Pretty fast, yeah.”

Derek gives a little wince of sympathy. “How in the world did you even get through it on your own last time?”

And Stiles, thinking nothing of it and vaguely aware that Derek would know if he lied anyway, says, "My dad helped me."

Derek freezes.

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS A TERRIBLE PLACE TO STOP AND I'M SORRY. The next part will be up in less than three months this time, promise!


End file.
